Love is a Revolutionary Act
by LesbianCalamity
Summary: (Written for SQ Week Day 7 - Creator's Choice) When the world doesn't make sense, it's our loved ones that give us the strength to persevere so we can be our truest selves and live in a world without fear.


**A/N:** For my dear friend. Hun, I know this is a crazy time for people like you and me. But we will get through this. I love you. Stay strong.  
 **Chapter Rating:** T (For Dark Tones, Adult Content, and Adult Language)  
 **Warnings:** Social commentary like whoa. I'll do my best not to be preachy but no promises. Alternate Universe (No Magic), OOC Snowing.  
 **Chapter Summary:** Emma watches the U.S. election results and talks to the only person that could possibly understand how she's feeling about it all.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters, or whatever the hell else. They belong to Disney, ABC etc, etc, I claim no rights to copyrighted material, and this story is purely for entertainment purposes.

* * *

" _To be truly happy in this world is a revolutionary act because true happiness depends upon a revolution in ourselves. It is a radical change of view that liberates us so that we know who we are most deeply and can acknowledge our enormous ability to love. We are liberated by the truth that every single one of us can take the time and pay attention. That is our birthright. Our own happiness can change history, and it does."  
_ — Sharon Salzberg, 'Lovingkindness'

* * *

Her family was celebrating but for Emma, she was in mourning. Every state in middle America that turned red was like a stab to her gut, or another nail in the coffin. She wanted to believe that reason would win. But emotions were high. People were hurt and confused. And through that pain came more hate, more division. And she watched as her country slowly gave into radicalism and an "Us versus Them" mentality.

"Florida is being called for Trump."

The newscaster's voice was hollow and devoid of emotion. He couldn't believe it.

Yeah, she couldn't believe it either.

"Another one for our man!" her father whooped.

"We're taking back our country," her mother cheered.

She sighed, running her hands over her face and all she felt was numb.

"Mom…" a little voice sounded beside her, his voice thick with fatigue though it was also clear he was fighting sleep.

"Yeah, kid?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the television to look at him.

"If Trump wins will Regina have to go away?" His big green eyes were glassy, and his words trembled as his spoke.

"Why would she have to go away?"

"Because I heard some of grandpa's friends say that if Trump wins then people like Regina will have to go back to where they came from."

Her heart sank at his words. He was seven. He shouldn't be worrying about this. This shouldn't be the kind of place he grows up in. This wasn't the America she wanted to leave him.

"Henry," she began. "Regina is from New York. She won't have to go anywhere if she doesn't want to. Don't worry."

His lip quivered. "But mom… I'm scared."

"Don't be, kid," she told him. "It's gonna be okay."

But she didn't believe it. Not truly. Still the night was still young and four years was a long time. Maybe she was just overreacting. Maybe this was just all in her head. Her parents had felt like this when Obama won in 2004. Maybe this was the same thing. Maybe it was the same fear she had watching Bush win when she was only 15. And Bush wasn't that bad, right? And Obama wasn't that great, right? So maybe this was nothing. Maybe it would be okay.

"Come on, kid. Bedtime. I'll wake you up and tell you who won in the morning."

Henry yawned. "Okay, mom. I love you forever."

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I love you forever, kid."

* * *

It was one in the morning and she was still awake. Secretary Clinton had just given her concession speech and her eyes were still red and puffy. It was official, they now living in a brave new world and soon President-Elect Trump would be sworn into the highest level of office and become the leader of the Free World. It felt weird to think it. It felt even stranger to say it out loud.

"President-Elect Trump?" she breathed, pulling out her pack of cigarettes. "What the actual fuck, America?"

Her phone had already been blowing up with texts from her mom, from her dad, from their friends, from her brother, people she grew up with… all of them cheering a Trump victory. She didn't respond to a single one. She didn't know how she could without sounding angry or bitter. And it wasn't the time for that. Besides, that's what they wanted. They knew how she voted, they knew who she pulled for. They were just trying to get her to react. And she wouldn't. Not for tonight anyway.

Then her phone buzzed in her pocket and she groaned thinking it was another text from her family or another Facebook notification. She just couldn't deal with it tonight. But she checked anyway if only to make the new text icon go away.

"So this is how democracy dies," the text read. "With thunderous applause."

She barked laughed and even in her joy she sounded tired, as she typed out her response. "Did you just quote Star Wars?" She pressed send and waited.

"Maybe."

She rolled her eyes. "Dork."

"I think they call people like me nerds, dear."

"Systematics."

She imagined Regina's rich laugh when she checked her phone and that brought a smile to her face.

"Haha. Big word, Swan. Has someone been reading their word of the day toilet paper?"

She smiled. "Emma. I hate when you call me Swan."

"No, you don't."

Regina was right. Somehow, despite the sound of her last name being like nails across a chalkboard coming from anyone else, when Regina called her that it was endearing, adorable even.

Before Emma could respond, Regina had sent another text. "How are you feeling?"

"Idk. Numb? Scared? Henry asked if you were going to be sent away if Trump wins."

"Jfc… Emma, I'm sorry. Did you tell him that I'm not going anywhere?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

Emma woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand next to the bed. It was from a number she didn't recognize. It was a 701 area code and her heart sank as she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is a call from the Fort Yates County Jail," the automotive voice said. "You have a collect call from…" Regina's voice cut in briefly as she stated her name. "Do you accept the charges?"

She didn't hesitate before she said, "Yes."

The phone line clicked. "Emma?"

"Oh my god, Regina. Are you alright?"

"Yeah... " she heard the other woman clear her throat. "Yes, I'm fine. I just need a favor."

"Yeah," Emma said. "Anything. What is it?"

"Can you come and get me?" Regina asked. "It seems that I have gotten myself arrested. Katherine's already posted bail. I just need a ride back my hotel room. They've impounded my car and put it on a 72 hour hold for some reason. Katherine's fighting it but she can only do so much from where she is."

"Ok. Yeah. Sure. No problem. Can I bring, Henry? Should I bring, Henry?"

She knew Regina could hear the fear in her voice. "It's safe in the town. We won't be anywhere near the front lines of the protest. So bring him."

She looked at the clock. It was just a little before 6 in the morning. "If we leave now, we won't be there until late evening."

"Take your time. I'll be here."

Regina gave Emma all of the information she'd need when she got there and they hung up with final goodbyes.

"Stay safe, Swan."

"You too, Mills."

Regina chuckled. "Cute, Emma."

"See you soon, Regina."

* * *

So you know what sucked? Besides, the tear gas and the dogs and the water hose, of course. Getting shot by a rubber bullet was an experience Regina Mills wasn't looking forward to repeating any time soon.

"What the matter, darlin'? Did the rubber bullet hurt?" one of the deputies asked with a smile on his face.

She just looked at him, eyebrow raised as she started him down, deciding that with her bail being processed and Emma on her way, she didn't need to make this any more difficult on herself. They had already shot her without cause, what would stop them from taking more drastic measures. So she said nothing. Even though her body shook and her blood felt like it was coming to a slow, rolling boil, she reminded silent.

"Fucking libtards coming here trying to push their fucking agenda on us."

Apparently one of the deputies wasn't done. Fantastic.

"But that's all gonna change," he said to another deputy. "Now that our man is in we can finally make this country what it used to be. I hope he passes a law that makes shit like this illegal."

She took a breath and let it out. When they go low, you go high. She repeated it silently to herself like a litany. She wanted to scream, shout a few choice expletives, and maybe set her cot on fire. But she couldn't give in. She wouldn't become another radical liberal stereotype. She wouldn't meet hate with hate.

"Don't have a lot say now do you?" he needled her.

"Hey, Francis leave her be, will ya? She's just doing what she thinks is right." This came from another one of the deputies. "She's waiting to be processed and then she can go. So find something else to do."

Deputy Francis left in a huff and Regina smiled at his colleague.

"Thank you, Deputy…?"

He grinned. "Humbert. Graham Humbert."

"Thank you, Deputy Humbert."

"Graham, Ms. Mills."

"Regina."

He walked told her holding cell. "So, I take it you were over at Standing Rock."

"I was," Regina said, cautiously.

"Is it bad over there?" Graham asked.

"It's not good," she replied.

"You know your girl probably wouldn't have blocked the pipeline."

She sighed, fighting through the stiffness in her arms and ribs as she ran her fingers through her hair. "A few things. One: she's not my girl, she's Secretary Clinton. And two: probably not. Which brings me to my third point, Bernie would have."

He chuckled. "So you were feeling the Bern?"

Regina nodded. "I was. But when Dumbledore told us to trust Snape, that's what I did. I trusted in Snape and we still got Lockhart and Voldemort."

"Which one is Trump?" he asked.

"Does it really matter at this point?"

* * *

"Sign here," the clerk instructed. "And initial here."

Regina penned her signature and then her initials before the clerk handed her back her personal belongings. Her purse, her cell phone, and her car keys with the canister of police grade pepper spray. A gift from her father.

"Thank you," she said with a polite nod and headed to the lobby. She felt… exhausted. Drained. It felt like she was fighting this fight for so long. God, she couldn't think what her parents were thinking with all of this. They marched against Vietnam and protested for equal rights since Johnson administration. Some of the texts and missed calls were no doubt from them and if she didn't call her parents soon her mother was going to have a conniption fit and probably file a missing person report.

However as tired as she was, Regina still managed a smile when she saw her best friend standing holding a sleeping little boy in her arms.

"Emma…"

"I don't want to know. Let's just go."

Regina chuckled. "But it was an epic tale about rebellion fraught with danger. Oh, and I think there was a dragon."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm walking away from you now."

"Oh, I don't think so, Swan. Not until you hand over the little cygnet."

"Really? Already with the Swan thing? Stop it."

"I will if you give me Henry."

"No, you won't," Emma said, but she was already carefully passing Henry's sleeping form her way.

"No, I won't." Regina took the kid into her arms, cringing through the shooting pain in her side, and he rested his head on her shoulder, mumbling her name as he drifted off again. Regina chuckled. "Sleep well, Little Cygnet."

"I hate you," Emma said, her goofy grin betraying her words.

"You love me. I am a constant source of joy and excitement. Without me you'd waste away and fade into the ether." She shot Emma a look. "And if you try to debate me on that point, I will literally fight you. And I'd win because I'm fiery."

"Can I ask one question?"

Regina nodded. "Of course, dear."

"Fade into the ether?"

"I will literally fight you, Swan."

* * *

Once the door to Regina's hotel room closed behind them, she felt like she could breathe again. On the other side of that door was the real world, people feeling hurt and let down, others feeling like they were finally getting their country back. But inside this room were two of her favorite people on the planet. She wasn't alone. She was safe.

"Regina?" Emma sat on the edge of one of the full size beds, Henry's sleeping form behind her, tucked in and resting soundly. She looked up at Regina with a worried expression.

"Hmm?"

"What happened?"

"Just a trespassing charge," Regina replied, dismissively. "Nothing to concern yourself with."

"Ok…" she paused and then met her gaze again. "Regina?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

It nearly broke her, hearing the pure earnestness of Emma's words. But Regina straightened her stance, fighting through the horrible pain that had now spread across her back, so every time she moved, her whole body spasmed.

"Yes, of course." The lie followed naturally from her lips. Emma didn't need to worry about her. She'd be fine. She'd go back to the East Coast, to New York, and her work. And that would be the end of it. If she wanted that. But this seemed so much more important. Even more so now with the election results.

"I'm going to take a shower to get the stench of jail off of me," Regina continued. "I don't know if you're hungry…"

"Are you hungry?" Emma cut in, voice full of concern.

"No." That was true.

"Ok."

"Are you hungry?" Regina asked.

"No," Emma said quickly. Her stomach growled, betraying her and she amended her statement. "A little."

Regina smirked at the other woman. "Order a pizza, Emma. I won't be long."

"What do you want on the pizza?" Emma asked.

She shrugged. "Whatever you want is fine."

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for that one again. You say that and then when the pizza comes and there's something you don't like on it, you'll pout," Emma told her, trying to keep from laughing too loudly.

"I do not… pout." Even as Regina said it, she knew she was pouting right now.

"No, of course not," the other woman snarked. "What do you want on the pizza, She-Who-Does-Not-Pout?"

Regina rolled her eyes. "Pepperoni and olives." When Emma made a low whining noise in her throat she added, "And bacon."

"Thank you."

"I am not responsible for your high cholesterol, Swan."

"If you keep calling me Swan, I'm going to put pineapples on the pizza and get ranch to dip it in."

Regina gave her the death glare. "You. Wouldn't. Dare."

"Try me," Emma challenged, a smug grin on her face because she knew she had won this round. If only for the fact that Regina believed that putting pineapples on a pizza was a slight against God and ranch had no business going near any kind of foods whatsoever.

"Fine, _Em-ma…_ "

* * *

There was a certain art to rolling a joint. And this was an art she had learned in high school, but didn't perfect until college. Roll it too tightly and you'll give yourself a headache before you smoke enough marijuana to get high. Roll it loose and it falls apart in your hand. It took a true artist to roll a joint that was just right. Some people used rolling machines, others only had a set standard of "smokable;" those people were rank amateurs, in Regina's opinion.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, freshly showered, and dressed for bed, Regina inspected her handiwork. The joint met with her quality standards so she lit it, checking one last time that the vent fan was on, so neither Henry nor Emma could smell it.

Seconds after she did, Regina felt her muscles relax as the tension from the last 24 hours slipped away. Well perhaps not slipped away completely. The anxiety was still present. And she was afraid. Truly and deeply afraid. Perhaps she could articulate why she was scared if asked, but unless someone could empathize with that kind of fear, they'd have a hard time understanding it.

As the joint dwindled down to a resined roach, Regina felt like she could breathe again. Like a little bit of the weight on her shoulders had been lifted. She was finally calming down.

Then her phone buzzed in her hand and she jumped, silently cursing her raddled nerves. It was Katherine. She probably just wanted to know if she was safely back at her hotel.

"Yes, Katherine."

"I called the Sheriff station." Kat was always no nonsense; she got straight to the point. "They said you were released two hours ago. So since then I've been covering for you with your folks. I've managed to keep your mother from jumping on a plane to get you." She paused. "You're welcome."

"Thank you."

"The car situation is handled," she informed Regina. "You'll have to pay an impound fee, but they agreed to release your car tomorrow. Especially after I used the words, "Press conference" and "Possible Fourth Amendment Rights Violation" in the same sentence."

Regina chuckled. "I love you."

"Where are you, Regina? Are you in your room?"

"Yes, I am. Emma's with me."

"Oh…" Katherine rolled it out. "Emma's with you. And how's that going?"

Regina pulled the phone away from her ear to scowl at it. She took another hit of her joint and replied, coolly. "I don't know what you're implying, Kat."

"You're in a hotel room with your high school sweetheart and you want to feign innocence? Regina, you lost your virginity to her."

"Virginity is an antiquated societal construct."

"You've talk to her almost every day for the last 15 years."

"We're good friends."

"I'm your best friend and we don't talk that much."

"Best friend? What are we teenagers?"

"She named her son after your dad."

"My father and Emma are close."

Katherine sighed. "I don't know why you stopped practicing law. You'd be a prosecutor's nightmare."

"You know why I stopped." She didn't mean to sound so cold but her former career was undoubtedly a sensitive subject and a point of failure for her.

"Sorry, I just meant-"

"I know what you meant, Katherine. But it's late and I want to sleep. Thank you for helping me. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, good night, Regina."

They hung up and she was left alone with her thoughts. The tears didn't come right away. But once she felt one roll down her cheek, others followed and soon she was biting her bottom lip to keep from audibly sobbing. She wasn't crying because Secretary Clinton lost, no more than she had cried a year ago after Senator Sanders' defeat in the primary. She mourned a victory that was colored with every shade of hate known to man. Because two years after love won, hate came back with a vengeance.

"Regina?" Emma called from the other side of the door. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Emma," Regina replied, quickly. "I'll be out in a minute."

There was a moment of silence before she heard, "I'm coming in. I hope you're decent."

She was but Regina didn't have time to say that or voice her objections before Emma came stomping in. As soon as she looked at the Regina, she knew something was wrong. She could see it on her face, no doubt.

"You don't look fine," Emma said, as she sat down on the edge of the tub, eeping at first because she sat in water before she rolled her eyes and just committed to sitting there. "Talk to me, Mills."

Regina wiped her eyes. "I'm scared, Emma."

"We got through eight years of Bush. We'll be ok."

"It's different now."

"How do you know?"

She shrugged. "I just do, Emma. It feels different."

Emma took her hands into her own. "We'll get through this, Regina. Together."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

 **Notes if I continue this:** I wrote this November 9th, 2016. But I wasn't ready to publish until now. So if I do continue this fic please understand this will be filled with SQ trying to live in our current political environment in the States. I will try to keep my personal views out of it but with a fic like this I feel like it will be impossible. I do however, plan to research the shit out of everything before it becomes plot in this fic which is why I sat on it for so long. Like for example I know the jail I named in this chapter is not the jail the sheriffs process protesters. But I've been trying to find the name of the other one but I've had no luck.

Anyway, thank you for reading. And you can give me a follow on tumblr where I am Murderously Adorkable


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